


Dexter's Little Cinderella

by androgenius



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: Dexter falls completely and hopelessly in love with Nancy over the course of TRT.





	Dexter's Little Cinderella

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veterization](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veterization/gifts).



> I don't know how I never realized this before, but this ship has a terrifying amount of potential. I'm not saying it's not creepy and kind of weird, just that... the next time you play TRT, pay attention to the way a) Dexter and Nancy interact, b) the way she talks about Dexter to other people (especially B&G and JACQUES omfg), and c) the fact that he CARRIES HER UP TO HER ROOM AFTER SHE'S KNOCKED OUT. 
> 
> Like I said. I'm NOT saying it's not gross, because it totally is. But it's absolutely there. Unrequited af, but it's there. And you can't deny it. 
> 
> Hey, at least there's no porn in this one, right?

Happiness had eluded Dexter for as long as he could remember. For a long time, he knew, the issue had been that he simply hadn't known what he wanted, let alone what he needed to do to achieve the contentment that seemed to come so easily for everyone else. Ignorance and selfishness, he'd been told, had been his most loyal companion for far too long for things to suddenly improve for him. 

So he'd learned to live with unhappiness, moving every couple of years in the hopes of finding his heart filled once more. 

Eventually, returning home to Wisconsin to Wickford Castle came to seem like more of an inevitability than anything else. If happiness was a feeling for him to seek out and track down, he knew he'd find it in his past, if nowhere else. Ezra Wickford, the old codger, had, after all, brought him an absurd amount of joy once upon a time whenever Dexter had actually managed to behave himself and make his old man proud. 

Unfortunately, his homecoming had been a hollow one. His return made the paper-- in just the sort of way that his old man would have hated-- and the presence of a new owner meant that Dexter was unceremoniously reminded of the fact that he might have inherited the place if only he'd been a better son. 

More than anything, he felt as though he'd brought his demons back home alongside him, ultimately displacing them instead of getting rid of them once and for all. Work was drudgery, the same old day-in and day-out he'd gotten so used to in his younger years, somehow relegated to the position of receptionist, custodian, bell hop, and fry cook all in one go. 

Until Nancy Drew's arrival, that was, the young woman rearing to check things off his task list just so she could get her radiator fixed. It had been a truly long time since he'd encountered that level of motivation, and to say that he was impressed was underselling her value by far. 

She was enterprising, that was for certain, something he undeniably admired. Even more than that, it meant that he saw himself in her-- albeit a younger, less life-weary version of himself. 

Not that everyone seemed to appreciate how helpful she was to him. He had, after all, overheard Lisa's comment to Nancy-- _Dexter's little Cinderella_ , she'd called her. His position was rather convenient in that way, if only because, to most guests, he was completely invisible. 

(Not to Nancy, though. Never to Nancy.)

Still, the thought didn't sit quite right with him. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that he was trying to take advantage of her generosity. No, they were merely working together, even if she wasn't one of the castle's official employees the way he was. All the same, he couldn't help but wish that she was. They made an exceptional team, after all, and he'd been asking Ms. Lane for an assistant for years, anyway. There was always far too much to do around that drafty old place. 

Then again, he supposed that Cinderella seemed an appropriate label for Nancy just this once. She was, after all, a woman rather the opposite of a traditional princess-- inquisitive, hard-working, kind, and caring-- nevertheless finding herself in a castle. Not that he could be considered very princely, either. Jacques seemed the more fitting candidate for that particular role. 

That thought, however, didn't sit too well with him, either. Here he was, sending her down to run errands for him with Jacques, practically throwing her to the wolves-- or, wolf, rather, in this instance-- himself. Oh, sure, Jacques was engaged, but considering the fragile, long-distance nature of their relationship, he didn't trust that French predator around Nancy for a second. 

Because, as much as she wasn't a princess, she was certainly as beautiful as one. It took him longer to notice than he might have preferred, but just as he was invisible to most guests around Wickford, so were most guests invisible to him. What had made Nancy so spectacular had been the fact that she'd more or less insisted upon being more important to him by making herself so incredibly _present_ in his life, by always coming to talk to him, and, _god_ , ask if there's anything more she could do for him, of all things. 

It took him a little longer to notice, but she _was_ his type, too. It wasn't entirely his fault, not this time, but it had been a long damn time since he had last been involved with or interested in anyone. He'd grown into a selfish, ugly old man, and he knew fully well that no woman in her right mind would ever be interested in him, of all people. 

Not anymore, anyway. People didn't care if you were selfish as a young man, not if you were attractive, and Dexter knew fully well that he absolutely had to have held at least some appeal to have gotten to go on all those dates and scored on all those one-night stands. 

Now, he wished he could sacrifice all of those memories for even just a chance with Nancy. 

_Okay, see ya, Mr. Egan!_

She was just so utterly... _eager_ to help. So ready to single-handedly restore an old man's faith in humanity. 

Not that she could likely tell the effect she was having on him. He used to be such a smooth talker-- whatever happened to that? It seemed that twenty-five years in prison had conclusively robbed him of any remaining charming qualities he may or may not have had prior to his conviction. 

_They call it The Past for a reason, okay? Because it's over._

She was so damn inquisitive-- too much so, really, for her own good and her own safety when one considered the fact that the culprit of that nutty old bird's room robbery and the vandalism of the library saw it fit to break parts of the wall during the latter, the willingness to use violence telling in its own right. If she got in their way...

Not that she needed their help to get herself in trouble, that much became obvious all too quickly. It seemed to be something else they had in common, after all. 

True to form, she'd told him she'd gone climbing around the elevator shaft, and, just as he'd expected of himself, her words inevitably served to chill his heart. A part of him wondered if she ended up stuck in the elevator between floors as a result of the vandal or if it had been mere coincidence, but either way-- the fact that she was willing to get herself out of that sort of danger by thinking outside of the box and consequently putting herself in more danger... well, damn, that just made her all the more attractive to him. He knew fully well she wouldn't be listening to his warnings about the potential dangers involved in that sort of horseplay if only because he never had, either. 

At least it appeared that she was more than a little capable of taking care of herself.

He knew he could never have her. Never would. And yet it seemed that he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Nancy Drew, a fact that did little to discourage him from ultimately committing the cardinal sin and listening in on her phone conversations. It was how he learned of the person that was likely her boyfriend, Ned, something that Dexter had expected, of course, but been no less upset over. 

_Well _you're_ a sound for sore ears!_

The boy wasn't wrong, at least that much he could grant him. It sounded as though, if nothing else, he appreciated the amazing woman that Nancy was. But that still didn't make it any easier to deal with.

At least her conversation with her friends is a bit easier to swallow, at least until she brings up the fact that he seems to have a new chore for him every time she talks to him, shame filling his gut at her words.

 _He's probably just overwhelmed being the only one on duty_ , one of her friends reasons, Dexter nodding to himself in response until Nancy's answer follows with, _next he'll probably ask me to take out the garbage!_

 _Never_ , he thinks, his fist clenching as he swallows hard, looking up and around the lobby to make sure he's still alone.

 _Think of it as a strategic investment, Nancy. I bet he knows a lot about the castle. It couldn't hurt to get on his good side..._ Her friend's words make him swallow, thoughts of all of the different things that she could do to get on his good side suddenly rushing through his mind all at once. Even if it was just for information... 

_I wish he'd just fix my radiator._

Her radiator was fixed that afternoon, Dexter reminding himself that, if she was just talking to him for the sake of the radiator, then it wouldn't be worth it to keep talking to her, anyway. 

But she wasn't. That inquisitive nature of her seemed to keep bringing her back to him, and, bit by bit, he was slowly but surely opening up to her, too, feeding her little bits of information here and there. He wasn't even sure what he was hoping for, but even just a smile from her seemed to make up for all the pain and grief his father had caused him all those years back. 

And that was when it happened. 

The call from Jacques was filled with swears, Dexter rushing downstairs to find Nancy sprawled out on the floor. That useless Frenchman went on about how she was taking a catnap in front of his locker, Dexter feeling himself bristle as he lifted her up in his arms as gingerly as he could possibly manage. 

He took the stairs, something he told himself he did solely because the last thing he needed right now was for the elevator to stop between floors again... but it was a blatant lie he was telling himself, and he knew it. The fact that he was able to carry her at all, that he had an actual excuse for something that would normally be so incredibly inappropriate for him to do in the first place... there were few things he wouldn't do to lengthen the time he could spend holding her this close. 

She smelled of old books and jasmine, and, oddly, it reminded him of his childhood here. It felt as though she belonged here, at Wickford, as though she'd always been a part of it in a way. 

He took care not to wake her as he was forced to shift slightly to get the door to her room open, Dexter's strides deliberately slowing as he approached the bed, already feeling his moments with her coming to a close. He couldn't help but marvel at the woman before him, this amazing, incredible woman, as he laid her down on the bed, wondering if this was how her boyfriend looked upon her, too, if he knew that this was the sort of reverence with which one treated the woman of one's dreams. 

He hesitated then, as his hands slid out from underneath her to relinquish her to the mattress that suddenly wasn't nearly soft enough for his tastes, Dexter letting his fingers skirt over the fabric of her shirt, her pants... he considered covering her with the blanket, but he feared waking her, so instead he simply moved to sit at the edge, his hand reaching out to gently brush her hair out of her face, absentmindedly letting his fingers run through the beautiful golden strands...

He'd never have a chance with this woman, never. Even if she wasn't taken, he knew at least that much, that it was completely and utterly hopeless, this affection he held for her. 

So he allowed himself to cup her cheek, to caress her skin... and finally to lean in and steal a soft kiss from her perfect lips, one she'd luckily never have to know about. 

It only took him another five minutes to tear himself away from the sight of her, Dexter sighing as he slipped out of the room as quietly as he could, his heart simultaneously lighter and heavier than it had ever felt before.

It was on his way back downstairs that he noticed the red dirt that her shoes seemed to have left on his shirt, a small smile coming over his features. Clever girl. Clever, clever girl. 

(He touched himself that night, thoughts of Nancy laid down upon her bed seeming to invade every moment that his eyes slipped closed again, his hand fisting his cock as he groaned.)

He left her a voicemail, and sure enough, she seemed to head straight for his desk first thing. She brushed off his question about whether she slipped as though her getting attacked was meant to be a minor thing (it wasn't) and shouldn't be something he worried about (it most certainly was).

 _It's just that... when I found you out cold in the basement and hauled you back to your room, I noticed all this red dirt on your shoes. And I'm just curious where it came from._

The thing was that he didn't actually expect her to come clean, even as he said it. And yet, she surprised him nonetheless with her confession-- and her fears over him considering this trespassing. It was laughable, honestly. Trespassing! 

She really was the very picture of a younger version of him, and clearly just as much of a troublemaker as he had been. With any luck, however, she wouldn't end up in jail. She'd do all the things he'd lost the chance to do, leaving him as her cautionary tale. 

_That's an amazing story, Mr. Egan. I'm glad you're not angry. I guess I've been as curious as you were._

To say the least, yes. 

Later, he couldn't decide if it had been a mistake to give her permission to find her way into the Queen's tower, to tell her about the garden and the key out in the shed, but a part of him could already tell that, if he didn't give her permission, she'd find her way in regardless, and sooner rather than later, for that matter. 

_But be careful, it's still dead cold out there_.

It turned out to have been a premonitory statement when she later got locked out, presumably at the hands of the same culprit from before, someone that was slowly but surely making it to the very top of Dexter's absolute shit-list and making him reconsider the pros and cons of returning to prison for the sake of a beautiful girl who would likely forget he ever existed after she left this place. 

It was telling enough how his fury just evaporated at the sight of her out in the maintenance shed, Dexter quick to bring her inside to wrap her up in a blanket and set her up by the fireplace with a nice steaming mug of cocoa from the staff room. The thought of her freezing to death outside... it scared him enough to make him snap at her when she was finally ready to return to where he was stationed at the front desk. 

_What kinduva stunt was that, Missy?_

To think that someone would actually lock her outside... it worried him as much as it made him angry.

Things got quiet after that, with Nancy returning less-- with the lone exception of her asking his advice, the two of them talking clandestinely over the phone as though they were having some kind of affair. Still, even with their occasional conversations, the loneliness and boredom that seemed to capture him in her absence was precisely why he returned to his previous pastime of tracking and listening in on her phone conversations.

_Do you think I should give it back to Dexter?_

On the other end, her friend scoffed. _Oh yeah, like honesty is the best policy with creepy convicts?_

He put the phone down at that, unable to bring himself to listen any further, the feeling in his gut downright painful.

Was that really what he was? All he'd ever be?

A creepy convict?

Worse yet, had she come to be aware of what had happened in her room after he'd carried her upstairs? About the way he'd touched her face, the way he'd kissed her? Did she know?

Was that what had degraded him to being a creepy old man?

He had to remind himself that it wasn't what Nancy had said. That it had been her friend who had made the comment. Hell, maybe he should have stayed on the line instead of setting the phone down. Maybe then he would have known what she actually thought of him. 

But it was too late for that now. He had lost his chance to find out, and that was all there was to it. 

What he hadn't expected to find out the next morning was that Nancy had caught Lisa Ostrum in her attempt at stealing Marie Antoinette's diamond, that she had discovered not only it, but all of the medallions and the queen's journal, too.

Likewise, he hadn't expected her to present him with his old man's letter, or the media attention that followed, for that matter. Even more surprising (if that was even possible) was the fact that Ms. Lane proposed their becoming joint business partners after the whole ordeal at the castle went down.

And dammit, a part of him felt certain that Nancy had to do with that, too. 

She really was a singular woman. In a way, that made it easier to know that he owed her everything, the way his life was turning around. That he didn't have to live with guilt and regret any longer. 

The only thing it didn't make any easier was her departure. Still. Maybe they'd meet again, someday. 

After all, a man could dream.


End file.
